


Loveless

by yellowroses257



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, After that we diverge, Also No Chic in this fic, Angst, Anxiety, Canon Divergence, Cheryl's POV, Compliant up to 2x14, Depression, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Possible Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, This will be dark, and hard to read maybe at some points, and sad, au-ish, conversion therapy, potentially Toni's POV, tags to be added??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-17 03:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14179995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowroses257/pseuds/yellowroses257
Summary: Essentially this is my attempt at writing a thought out story that appropriately addresses the trauma Cheryl has endured.She is loveless, unable to give or receive. A burden since birth, Cheryl Blossom created a name for herself despite the constant abuse in her life. Emotional-Anorexic. Cutting people down was her specialty, building herself up as a result. Without Jason, the only kind soul in her small world, successfully navigating life's many battles had become near impossible.





	1. You Belong Among The Wild Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a dark and heavy one guys, this is your warning! I believe I've tagged most triggers in the tags and I'll try to post any major triggers at the top of each chapter. As said in the summary, this is my attempt at giving Cheryl Blossom some justice. It's pretty compliant up until 2x14 but after that it diverges. I'm no expert on the legal systems or social work. Most things will be tailored to work for this story. It's also going to be a pretty long one. I'll try to post a new chapter weekly but no promises!

Cheryl was groggy. More than groggy. Everywhere she looked there were swirls of color, no defined shapes. Blurry. Her vision was blurry. Her head throbbed, like someone had taken a sledge hammer to it. Why were there so many lights? They were too bright. So bright it hurt. It hurt to keep her eyes open.

Pain. Why did it hurt? She couldn’t even feel her legs or arms, they were dead weight and didn’t even twitch when she tried to move them. There were voices. They were so soft they barely made sense. She couldn’t pick out any of the words, couldn’t interpret what was being said. Not that the voice, or voices Cheryl wasn’t sure, were familiar at all.

Her tongue was thick in her mouth and all she could taste was salt. Was she crying? She had no idea. She knew nothing. The only constant was the pounding of her heart. The sound of blood rushing past her ears.

The colors were getting darker. The edges of her vision closing in, like a tunnel. Agony. It was so slow: days, years, decades. The gray blobs taunted her, coming in and out of vision. Was she going blind? This hurt too.

Cheryl wanted to scream. Her tongue was just as dead as her limbs. Mouth as dry as the desert. Her throat. God, her throat ached. It was itchy. But she couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t get her lips to work.

Suddenly her eyes would not stay open. They closed then opened by sheer force of will. She was sweating with the energy it took. Even then they shut again and the next time they opened her vision was cut in half. Cheryl shook. Dying couldn’t feel this way...could it?

* * *

Beeping.

It was...annoying.

Cheryl gasped, the light far too bright for how sensitive her eyes were. Air flooded her lungs, as if she had been underwater, drowning, and this was her first breath after being ripped from the water. The white room came into focus. A bed with bars, a couple chairs, a dingy tv hanging from the ceiling in a corner. A hospital? The sterile scent of the air confirmed it.

She turned her head, but it wasn’t a fluid movement, more like her head lolled to the side. Machines, some beeping, some flashing with bouncing lines, and some still with numbers that meant nothing to Cheryl. Looking to the opposite side she saw someone sitting in a chair. Her lips parted, wanting to ask what happened, but only a scratchy breath escaped her.

The redhead glanced down and was incredibly aware of the starchy material of the gown she wore. Blankets were pulled up nearly to her chest and while they were warm they were foreign. It felt like she was using someone else’s bed, and Cheryl supposed she was. The sheets may have been cleaned and the pillows changed out but the bed was not her own. Taking a deep breath, her lungs seemed to have cobwebs, she tried to sit up only to groan. Her head, more than her muscles, protested the movement.

“Cheryl?”

That sounded like... “S-Sheriff?”

Why was he here? Why was she in the hospital? More importantly why did it feel like she had been hit by a bus? Despite having so many questions bouncing around her brain she could not voice one of them. She needed water. Asap.

“You’re alright,” he continued, sitting up and placing his hat on his knee. Cheryl wasn’t overly fond of the Sheriff ever since he accused her of being a suspect in her brother’s murder. “Cheryl I want to make it very clear that you are safe here. We’re going to take care of everything, you just need to focus on feeling better.”

His kind words did not quell the worrying building in her chest. Cheryl’s eyes narrowed, suspicious of everything the man said.

“Do you remember anything Cheryl?”

Did she?

All she could remember was feeling tired. More exhausted than she’d ever felt before. So dead tired that memories were foggy. She had no concept of time, no idea why she felt so awful. Cheryl shook her head because the memories were not present in her mind. They were covered by a thick fog that she had no way to see through.

“Well, that’s fine,” Sheriff Keller continued. His brows were low, his eyes dark. He had stubble on his cheeks, something Cheryl had never seen on his usually clean shaven face. “Unfortunately, after receiving an anonymous tip we’ve taken your mother into custody for prostitution. And because she operated out of your home that is not a suitable environment for a child.”

This couldn’t be real. She had to be dreaming. Her awful, sorry excuse for a mother couldn’t really be in jail. Surely she would find a way to make bail and dispute any charges. None of it made sense. Did one of her clients send the tip?

“So she’s also being charged with child abuse. A case worker will be be by to discuss everything with you and come up with a solution.”

Cheryl’s head dropped back against the bed, thoroughly overwhelmed. Her emotions: anger, surprise, sadness, shock, relief, confusion, were all screaming for an outlet. She was too numb by them to have any thoughts. Her chest grew tight. She couldn’t breathe. Amazingly, Cheryl found strength to curl her fists into the sheets. She closed her eyes.The darkness didn’t stop the emotions or calm the storm in her head but it provided an escape.

Dark.

Darker.

Darkest.

* * *

  _Burning muscles. She strains, against what she can’t remember, but every ounce of energy fights against the unknown grip._

_It stings. Something isn’t right._

_Dread fills her bones, claws down her arms and cramps her fingers.Shouting. Why is there shouting? Her throat is raw, lips horribly dry. She coughs because her lungs can’t possibly keep up. Screaming. She’s screaming. Why?_

_Fire. It feeds off the skin of her arm. It all focuses to a single point, sharp and irritating and... And..._

* * *

 Cheryl woke. She had no sense of time, no concept of day or night, of up or down. Her chest seized in panic, anticipating the worst. The antiseptic smell wafted over her and it screamed hospital. Memories of Sheriff Keller hit her. Cheryl’s mother was in jail. Oh right. Prostitution. How pathetic.

Someone cleared their throat causing Cheryl to flinch. It hurt more than she’d ever admit.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Cheryl saw it was a woman as she turned to the source of the sound. She was dressed in a pantsuit, a scuffed briefcase in the chair next to her.

“My name’s Mary, Cheryl, and I’ll be your caseworker.”

Cheryl didn’t reply. How could she? This was not possible. None of it could be real.

“I know this is all overwhelming, but we’re going to try out best to have the process go as smooth as possible. There are some things we need to go over with you. This is a rather interesting predicament, so--”

“Is she still in jail?” It was spoken softly, not on purpose but because Cheryl’s throat was so very dry. She had no idea how long she’d been sleeping for. Rather, coming in and out of consciousness. But it was long enough that her voice had seen little use.

“Your mother?”

The redhead nodded, a simple, purposeful drop of her chin. Otherwise the motion would upset the ache in her head more.

“Well, yes she is. The details are very messy but she’s awaiting a trial right now. You don’t have to worry about that right now.”

Cheryl didn’t know why she was so surprised. It was as if her family’s name brought death and crime regardless if it be by blood or marriage. Her mother was so calculated and behind closed doors that was acceptable. She figured if her mother was taking part in illegal activity she would have taken every precaution...Obviously, that was not the case.

The antiseptic was starting to burn her nose, every breath bringing a stinging sensation. It was easier to focus on that than whatever the woman had to say. Each word out of the caseworker’s mouth resembling the sound of nails on a chalkboard. She was chattering away, unaware that Cheryl’s blank stare really was just that.

“I want to leave,” Cheryl stated, no longer looking at the dark haired woman. She couldn’t listen anymore. She would not be subjected to hearing all the grueling details of her mother’s felonies.

The woman, _Mary_ , Cheryl remembered, faltered. Pages were frantically flipped and something was scribbled down. The briefcase feigned organization skills that Mary clearly lacked. Cheryl bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t scream.

She. Wanted. To. Leave.

“Do you understand, Cheryl?” It was said in that awful tone. Pity. Cheryl hated pity.

“What?” she snapped, but Cheryl’s voice was so weak it had none of the bite she  
desired.

“You’ll be going to your own home, and your uncle, Claudius Blossom, will be your primary caregiver. As is typical I’ll be checking--”

_Uncle Claudius._

He was hardly fit to be a caregiver. It wasn’t even like Cheryl needed someone to care for her. She’d gone all her life so far looking out for herself, surviving constant ridicule from her family. God, she wanted to go home. She wanted her own bed. She wanted...Oh, god, she wanted to see Toni.

Cheryl was numb. Ice slithered down her limbs, freezing her. She nodded and made soft sounds to show she was listening, however it was all an act. Eventually Mary left. The silence that accompanied her exit was welcomed. It calmed Cheryl’s immediate anxiety. The existential dread that was slowly taking over her body was not.

* * *

 Later that day a nurse dropped Cheryl’s things off: the clothes she was wearing before admittance to the Sisters Of Quiet Mercy, her cell phone, shoes, and jacket. Everything smelled like moth balls, Cheryl wrinkling her nose as she opened the plastic bag that held everything. Combined there were only ten missed calls and texts, the number mortifying and another reminder of how little people cared. On the other hand, Toni made up all of the two calls and seven of the eight texts.

Normally her heart would pound. Now, all Cheryl could do was take a deep breath. A slight nausea plagued her stomach. Damn it. She opened up her messages, attempting a deep breath before she tapped on Toni’s name.

 

11:03am [Toni]: Didn’t think Cheryl Blossom skipped school :p

.

.

.

3:30pm [Toni]: No Vixens practice? Are you feeling okay?  
.

.

.

4:42pm [Toni]: Consider me officially worried. Do you need anything?

.

.

.

9:30am [Toni]: Hope you’re okay. Swinging by your place after school.  
.

.

.

2:50pm [Toni]: Your mom said you’re in Switzerland?? There’s no way.

2:51pm [Toni]: Please answer. I’m really worried about you.

.

.

.

6:32pm [Toni]: Hey Cher, I hope you’re doing better. I’m pretty in the loop about what happened...to a certain degree. I know this must be scary. Anyways, call or text me when you can please <3

 

Cheryl’s lips spread in a small smile. Tears blurred her vision for a moment before she sniffled. She couldn’t cry here. She couldn’t cry period. She was Cheryl fucking Blossom. And yet, Cheryl didn’t feel like herself. She felt like the shell of that person. The person who had been crying for days; mostly out of frustration than anything.The Sisters were so cruel...

Cheryl shook those thoughts away, clenching her teeth. After a minute she released all the breath in her lungs in a long stream. She typed out a message.

3:31pm [Cheryl]: Hi. I’m sorry. Can I call you?

Three tiny dots appeared signalling that Toni was typing, but then Cheryl’s phone was buzzing and the screen revealed an incoming call. _Toni Topaz_. It took Cheryl a moment to answer. In fact, she was worried she missed the call when she swiped accept.

“Hey, Cheryl?”

Toni’s voice was... It was familiar and soft and gentle. The soothing tone melted away some of the stress that had settled in Cheryl’s shoulders.

“Hi.”

“Hey, how are you?”

How was she? Awful, terrible, exhausted, drained, sore.

“Um, I’ve been better.”

“I would think so,” Toni hummed. It was soft, melodic. “How’s the hospital? Do you know when you’re going home?”

Home. She loved Thistlehouse and Thornhill. Home was a foreign feeling. Cheryl hadn’t felt at home since Jason died. Jason was her home more than her entire family combined. He was everything and now he was dead. He was dead and Cheryl was going crazy.

“It’s a hospital, Toni,” Cheryl shrugged, chipped nails picking at the seam of the sheet relentlessly. “Today. Later today. I can’t be discharged until my uncle gets here.”

“Uncle Claudius?” A soft huff, as if Toni was grumbling to herself for a moment. “How about I come sit with you until he gets there? If you’re up for it.”

Cheryl was up for anything involving the Serpent girl.

“You don’t have to.”

And before Cheryl even finished her sentence Toni was countering with, “I _want_ to, Cher.” A silence followed, one in which Cheryl was heartbroken, biting her bottom lip to hold the tears back. “Nothing is more important than seeing you. So don’t try to come up with some excuse. I’ll be there soon and if you really want me to leave at some point I will.”

Cheryl covered her eyes with the palm of her hand. Her chest was growing tight again. It was hard to catch her breath. The extra darkness her hand provided offered some solace, but only to the thoughts ravaging her mind. Cheryl nodded her head, before answering.

“Okay,” she breathed, and the with more conviction, “okay.”

Cheryl could hear the smile in Toni’s voice at her next words, “See you soon, Bombshell.”


	2. You Belong In A Boat Out At Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toni visits Cheryl in the hospital. Claudius picks her up when it's time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Fear not, I have much more motivation to write the next chapters, but this needed to be set up first.

Cheryl was lying on her side when someone entered her room. Thank god it was a single. She could never share with some morphine riddled, exacerbated roommate. She didn’t turn to look, tired of all the nurses coming to check up on her, preferring to stare at the dull eggshell paint on the far wall. The window would have been Cheryl’s first option to look at but the sky was gray and the air was dead and she could only see the dirty tops of nearby buildings. With that as her view into the outside world she was much more inclined to stare at the wall.

“Hey Cheryl.”

Her heart stopped. That voice is unmistakably Toni’s. The nausea hit her again making Cheryl swallow hard. She rolled onto her back, chapped lips twitching into what she hoped was a smile.

“Hello Antoinette.”

The Serpent girl didn’t hesitate, immediately pulling a chair close to the hospital bed. Cheryl watched her sit, watched her hands lay on the mattress, inches from Cheryl’s body. They didn’t sneak any closer and when Cheryl’s eyes found Toni’s she saw a hint of unease. Toni’s, almost perfect, brows were furrowed together. Her full lips were spread in a soft smile. The vibrant streaks of pink in her hair were in stark contrast with the sterile white of the hospital.

“Heh I’m glad they didn’t take all the fire out of you, Bombshell.”

Toni. She was far too nice. It brought tears to Cheryl’s eyes. No one ever checked on her. No one cared enough to ask Cheryl how she was doing. No one ever took it upon themselves to visit her and spend time with her. Cheryl craved such attention.

“Mmm. They certainly weren’t fond of my sarcasm.”

Sarcasm got Cheryl plenty of hard labor and many adjustments in her medications.

“Full disclosure?” Toni started, leaning closer and whispering, “I’m into it.” A wink followed and Cheryl tried to smile, she really did, but the nausea was back. Why? Why did she feel so sick? She swallowed again, licked her lips as she sat up more. How long had she even been there? A week, two, three? She had no concept of time in there, no sense of day and night.

“Maybe I’ll keep up the ruse then.”

“Ugh, don’t play games with me like that.”

Toni was all grins. Even the chuckle that left those lips sounded more melodic than any song Archie or The Pussy Cats could ever hope to sing. Cheryl’s eyes closed, blood rushing passed her ears.

The redhead’s chest felt as if it was being cinched tighter and tighter by a chain. She clenched her teeth, knuckles rubbing along her sternum. She was trying to massage away the pain but no matter how hard she pressed Cheryl’s chest did not loosen.

“What’s wrong?”

Hands, warm and soft, tenderly grazed Cheryl’s forearm. Toni was too sweet. Cheryl wanted to hate it, to hate how good it felt. To ignore all the butterflies and the warmth that radiated all from such a caring act. Toni didn’t need to touch her. Toni didn’t need to be there. In fact, Cheryl deserved to be left alone, deserved to be miserable.

“ _Nothing_.”

It was spat, almost hissed at the Serpent girl. What should have given Cheryl comfort (the familiarity of being mean, of flaunting her power) made her feel empty. One look at Toni’s face only confirmed how shocking her tone had been.

“Okay... Is Claudius your default caretaker? You must have a caseworker, right? You can tell them how unsafe you feel with him. They’ll take care of it.”

Sometimes Cheryl forgot how poor Toni was. Sometimes she forgot that the other girl was essentially homeless. Toni never mentioned her parents, only her uncle occasionally and her grandfather. It made perfect sense Toni had experience with case workers or social workers.

Cheryl felt small and so very uneducated. So she shrugged, shook her head. No.

The tile squeaked as Toni slid her chair forward, closer to the bed. Cheryl watched the hands on her arm glide down to take her hand. The motion did not warm her heart, but it eased the anxious grip on her chest.

“Why not?”

The words were quiet. Not timid, they were said with purpose, but devoid of any hostility.

Cheryl rolled her eyes, her free hand wiping away invisible tears.

“It doesn’t matter.” A pause, an intake of breath. “My mother is already being held in a cage. They’ll need proof and someone has to take care of Nana Rose. It’s not worth it. I can’t be placed in some low income house with a patchwork family that can barely afford to keep the heat on.”

Oh.

That sounded a lot like things people on the Southside had to deal with. Sounded a lot like people Toni may see everyday. Toni may have experienced any of those things before.

“I didn’t mean--”

Toni shook her head, a smile (amazingly) still on her features. She rolled her eyes and started playing with Cheryl’s fingers. Cheryl felt gross. Looking down to her hands she realized for the first time the lack of polish on them. They were short, some of them chipped. God, she just felt so dirty and she knew it could only follow that the rest of her body looked similar if not worse.

“You would survive,” Toni started, that smile flashing into a smirk for a second. “But if you really don’t want to I understand. I just...”

Toni just what? Cheryl couldn’t keep up. This side of Toni was so new. Yes, they’d had their moments like at the movies and the sleepover and the will reading. Yet this was different. This side of Toni was cautious, incredibly aware of everything Cheryl did. Cheryl had caught Toni’s wondering eyes, no doubt taking in the minor bruising along her arms. Perhaps taking notice of the bags under her eyes, purple smears practically sinking into her head.

“You’ve been through so much already. And Claudius is a creep.” Toni squeezed Cheryl’s hand, snug between her own. “I want to do anything I can to help you.”

Cheryl’s teeth clenched. She couldn’t cry. She was frustrated. She was strong, she didn’t need help. She didn’t need anyone. Why couldn’t Toni understand that?

“Meaning... I can just sit here with you, silently. Or we can shoot the shit and forget everything. Whatever you want. I’ll even stay when your uncle comes and help you out... or I can leave, but I’d like to stay.”

“You’re leaving before he’s here,” Cheryl grumbled, though her free hand settled atop Toni’s.

The way Toni smiled told Cheryl she disagreed but would accept. Toni really was too good for her. It all made her stomach twist uncomfortably. What was worse was the fact that Cheryl felt so safe simply having her hand in Toni’s careful hold.

* * *

 Toni left seconds before Claudius entered. More so, Cheryl’s heart stopped at the sheer resemblance he had to her father. It was sickening, a horrible joke the universe was playing on her. A nurse was beside him, looking over a file.

“Hello Cheryl,” Claudius said with a tiny wave of his massive hand.

“Uncle Claudius,” she returned, grinding her teeth together after the fact. The nurse was clearly oblivious to the tension in the air. Though Cheryl supposed Claudius had a way of controlling any room he stepped into whether that be by shock value alone or his convincing act.

“Give me your name and date of birth and you’ll be all set to go,” the nurse said.

Cheryl had changed into the stupid and dirty blue dress from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. It was the only thing she had, along with the shoes and cardigan. The fabric was dirty. It burned her skin, a constant reminder of that awful place, of how wrong she was. A miserable, unworthy, waste of space. Cheryl stood, flashing the nurse one of her over the top smiles.

“Cheryl Marjorie Blossom, July 30th 2000.”

The nurse scribbled some things down and handed Cheryl a small packet.

“Your discharge papers. You’ll want to follow up with your primary but if there’s an emergency don’t hesitate to come back. There’s also some referrals to a few therapists and psychologists.”

“Thank you very much,” Claudius said, his booming voice causing Cheryl’s muscles to tense. “Come along Cheryl.”

Cheryl glanced at the nurse, pausing before she followed her uncle out into the hallway. She was hesitant because who knew where he would take her. Would they go back to Thistlehouse or would he drop her off at another horrible institution?

“Something wrong?”

The nurse. Cheryl startled, quickly shaking her head, wiping at her eyes.

“No...No. Uh, thank you.”

“Have a good day!”

If only it were that easy. Having a good day seemed impossible, but there was nothing else Cheryl could do. She held her chin high and followed Claudius out of the hospital into her father’s red Impala convertible. The smell of treated leather filled her nose. Had it been detailed? It wouldn’t be unusual but Penelope had been very clear they had no money.

“How was your stay?”

“My _stay_?”

Was he kidding? He and her mother dropped her there like it was 1930 and throwing a child into an insane asylum was commonplace. Honestly, being in the car was terrifying. No longer did it remind Cheryl of outings with Jason. Instead it was plagued with the unthinkable plan her supposed guardians were putting in place.

“In the hospital, of course.” Claudius gave her a look as if begging her to accuse him of more.

“It was a hospital...” she grumbled, deciding she’d rather give him the silent treatment.

“Hm. Yes, well. I’m happy you’re safe now. Nana Rose has been worried sick. And I’m sure your mother will be happy to hear you’re in good health.”

Silence. The rumbled of the engine as it idled at one of the only traffic lights in town.

“And don’t you worry about your mother. I’m going to get everything straightened out. Legally she’s being held without bail but my lawyer will change that. It must be scary. Your mother taken away to jail because of a misunderstanding and me put in charge of you.”

Gulp.

Suddenly Cheryl’s throat was thick and her chest terribly tight. Damn him. Damn him and her god forsaken mother. The battle was far from over, Claudius made that clear. This was merely a bump in the road. Cheryl’s life was in the hands of the police and the law. Could they even stand up to private lawyers and buckets of money? She hoped they could.  
Cheryl licked her lips.

She turned to the window.

And closed her eyes.

* * *

_Hands. Hands biting into the skin of her ankles, cutting off the blood in her wrists._

_Why?_

_Ice. Ice cold. Something locks around her ankles, she can’t move. The fear runs rampant through her blood. She fights harder, her nails catch. Blood?_

_Blood._

_She screams. It hurts, it all hurts so much._

_Abuse. She’s being abused. Far worse than anything her mother ever dream of._

_She screams again, the ice reaches her wrists and then they’re trapped as well. The sharp, itchy pinpoint returns. Her arm, it’s on her arm. It’s...He’s..._

_He slaps her._

_Blood now coats her tongue._

_Dark._

_Darker._

_Darkest._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hit me up on tumblr: solaralockwood.tumblr.com for requests or just to chat! Reviews and constructive criticism is always appreciate, but please keep it clean in the review :D
> 
> xxRose


End file.
